afireinthesnow: (Default)
Needed information: This is a freewrite from my story about my character Sira Nightfyre. It focuses on her after a recent breakup, experiencing it for the first time, and she copes with loud music. The boss of her corporation [assassin] doesn't have much compassion, and sends his best worker and Sira's mentor, Aeydan, to shut her up.

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Aeydan sighed and held the receiver away from his ear as his boss screamed at him. He had heard the entire rant a fair few times by now, and it was tiring to listen to it once more.

"Sir," he said, keeping his tone calm as the Head stopped to breathe. "She's never gone through this before. No matter what you want us to raise her as, she's still a teenager, and this is a teenager's way of coping."

"I don't care WHAT it is! It's disruptive! Tell her to turn that damned music down!"

Aeydan didn't reply, closing his cell phone before there could be any more yelling. He walked over to his dresser and opened one of the small top drawers, drawing out a bag of earplugs. He put one in each ear and left his room quietly. He strode down the hall towards Sira's room, where it was plain to hear what the Head was complaining about.

Even with her door closed and near-soundproof walls, the music the little Werecat was blasting and singing could be heard. He knew she wouldn't hear his knock over that, so instead Aeydan simply opened the door. Sira had her back to him, and she was singing "Not Meant To Be" by Theory of a Dead Man. There were drying tear tracks against her pale cheeks, little salt rivers on her smoothe skin.

Aeydan walked up behind her and gently pressed a hand to her shoulder. In past times, the girl would have grabbed him by the arm and flipped him painfully onto his back. Now she just ceased her singing and glanced up at him.

He hissed softly at a sight that was becoming too familiar; paler than usual cheeks, red rimmed turquoise eyes that were usually so beautiful... Lips that were chapped and bloody from a lack of drinking anything that wasn't shoved down her throat. His young colleague was usually such a beautiful girl, but this... This was a shadow of her former self. Not but a frail shell that would crumble at the slightest touch.

It made him see red each time, but he had to bite back the urge to growl as Sira hugged him tightly, sobbing into his chest. All he could do for her was hold her, try to give some small comfort.

And annoy the boss by leaving her to her music.
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Let's Get One Thing Straight: I'm Not.

October 2013

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